


For Ailea

by Master_of_the_Rebels



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Damian is sneaky but adorable, M/M, Tim understands this, and does something sneaky but adorable himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_of_the_Rebels/pseuds/Master_of_the_Rebels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Damian stealing dick’s shirts to sleep with because the scent is comforting and dick wondering where the heck they’re all going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Ailea

The window lifted soundlessly in the frame, a dark shadow stealing into the room on silent footsteps.  The figure in the bed remained deep in sleep, occasional snuffling muffled into a pillow.  The invader paused near a dresser, watching the sleeping man with intent caution.  Assured that the sleep was natural and not faked, the burglar turned and knelt to the ground, easing open the bottom drawer.  It stuck for a moment before sliding out with a loud squeak and the culprit winced, but the man in the bed only sighed heavily and rolled over onto his stomach.

 

Slumping in relief, the thief located the target and lifted it from the depths of the drawer, shutting it with much less noise, thankfully.  Ghosting back over to the window, the intruder squeezed through the opening, head shaking and muttering a quiet _-tt-_ at the completely unconscious man inside sleeping through the robbery.  The window shut and the person disappeared into the night.

 

~~~

 

"Seriously, Timmy, it makes no sense." Dick was face first in the bottom of his closet, Tim sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched the older man dig frantically through the mass chaos of clothes, shoes, and miscellaneous crap.  "It's like clockwork; every Sunday night, every other week, one of my T-shirts goes missing.  I can't find it anywhere in the apartment, I didn't leave it at the Coin-and-Spin, and it's not in my car.  I never see it again!"

 

Tim's head jerked to the side as a roller blade came flying past him, and he pushed it to the floor when it landed on the mattress.  "Why don't you just wear a new shirt?"

 

Dick stopped rummaging and sat back on his heels, throwing an incredulous look at his younger brother.  "Tim.  _Tim._ Do you have any idea how many days I've worn this shirt?" He flapped the front of his black tee with his fingers.  "Five days.  _Days_ , Tim, do you even understand that?  Do you know how bad this thing smells?"

 

Smirking, Tim wagged his eyebrows mockingly.  "Why do you think I'm sitting over here and not helping you search?"

 

"Funny, real comedian," Dick drolled, but he was smiling in spite of himself.  With a frustrated sigh, Dick pushed to his feet, only to move the six steps it took to flop down on the ground at Tim's feet.  His head lolled back on his neck into Tim's lap as the teen shifted to let Dick rest between his knees.  Tim's fingers slid into the man's shaggy hair almost reflexively, and Dick moaned happily when the gentle massage and scrape of nails started.

 

"So what are you going to do then?  Seems like you need to go shopping." Tim rolled his knuckles into a knot beneath Dick's left ear.

 

"Mmm, yeah, probably." Dick's hands closed loosely around Tim's ankles, his blunt nails scratching happily at the soft skin.  "Tim, you should go shopping with me."

 

"Hah, yeah, I'm not going out in public with you when you haven't bathed."

 

"Hey!  I resent that." Dick leaned back to pout up at the skeptical teen.  "I've taken showers, my shirt just hasn't been cleaned."

 

"You should've at least rinsed it off before putting it back on." Tim grinned, hands dropping to the stretched neckline and working his way underneath to press his palms to Dick's bare chest.  "We could do it now.  You just need to take it off.  And then later...much later, we can go do that shopping."

 

Dick licked his lips as calloused fingertips brushed over his nipple, and his hands tightened on Tim, sliding up strong legs to dig in with a pleasant pressure on the younger man's calves.  "This is a plan I can get behind."

 

Tim hit the sheets with a laugh as Dick shoved him back and stripped his shirt off all in one go.

 

~~~

 

When Tim wandered into the manor's laundry room early the next morning in pursuit of a sweater vest for school, he found Alfred frowning over a stack of scrunched up shirts.  "Something wrong, Alfred?" Tim came around the man's side and looked at the pile, raising an eyebrow when he recognized the shirt on top almost immediately as one of Dick's.

 

"Master Timothy, I have been trying to puzzle this out for quite some time now.  I am positive that these are Master Richard's shirts, however, I don't recall him visiting of recent.  But I keep finding them in the strangest places, particularly Master Damian's drawing room." Alfred rubbed his chin in thought while Tim fought valiantly to keep a straight face.

 

"I'll ask Dick about it next time I see him." Tim glanced around, locating his vest and snagging it from the middle of a pile of folded clothes. He stopped at the doorway and asked, "Is the demon still on the prowl?"

 

An amused smile touched the butler's lips and shook his head.  "No, I believe Master Damian retired to his room not thirty minutes ago.  It was a long night and he seemed to be exhausted."

 

Nodding, Tim excused himself, heading back down the hallway and up the marble staircase towards his suite of rooms.  He hesitated at a corner, and his curiosity got the better of him, making him turn the opposite direction he would normally go.  Silently as possible, he crept down the hall until he made it up to a door that was cracked open.  Peeking through, Tim slipped into the dim darkness of the bedroom, sneaking over to the figure on the bed, dead to the world. 

 

An unexpectedly fond smile graced his features as he watched Damian breathe deep, his face buried into a soft grey T-shirt that was unmistakably Dick's.  Against his permission, Tim's hand reached out, and he smoothed a strand of black hair away from the corner of Damian's eye.  The boy's breathing hitched and he clutched the shirt closer to his face, brow furrowing as a quiet "-ys'n," whispered through barely parted lips.

 

Tim's smile turned sad, and he left the room as quietly as he came in.  He shut the door completely after himself, and meandered slowly back to his own room, rolling his thoughts over in his mind. 

 

It shouldn't be a surprise to find Damian in such a position.  Dick had been the closest thing to a father figure that the ten-year-old had, and when Bruce had come back, Dick had left without much protest.  Damian wouldn't admit it, probably not even to himself, but the older man's departure had devastated him.  Tim understood Damian's need to be close to something of Dick's, even something as simple as a T-shirt.  Damian was very visceral; just a scent could set him off to a memory. 

 

A thought occurred to him, and Tim swiveled on his heel quickly, hurrying back down to the laundry room.  When he got there, he saw Alfred about to toss the load of shirts into the washing machine and Tim cried out, "No, wait!" Shocked still, Alfred turned towards him with wide eyes.

 

"Master Timothy?  Is something the matter?"

 

Tim slumped against the doorframe, shaking his head with a grim smile.  "No, nothing's wrong.  Just don't wash those shirts." The look he was given was of pure confusion, and he elaborated, "I'd like to take them myself.  Don't worry over it." Alfred looked uncertain, but he handed over the bundle without any protest.

 

On his way out of the house, Tim had his cell phone in hand and spoke into the receiver when the other line picked up.  "Hey, Kon.  Can I ask a favor of you and Ma Kent?"

 

~~~

 

A week later, Damian stepped into his bedroom, ready for sleep, and stilled.  Eyes narrowed with suspicion, he slowly approached his bed and stared at it with a mix of confusion and pleasure.  Covering his regular sheets was a quilt made up of all the shirts he'd arrested from Dick over the past several months.  Breathing shallowly through his nose, he wandered the edge, fingers lightly trailing along the soft fabric.  He paused, glancing up at the shut door, before crawling forward onto the mattress towards his pillows and pulling the quilt up with him.  As it shifted, the overwhelming scent of Grayson washed over him, and Damian's eyes fluttered shut with a jilted sigh. Without a word, he curled up beneath the blanket and allowed the familiar smell and sense of security lull him to sleep.

 

A tiny golden Red Robin insignia at the very bottom corner glinted in the dim lighting of the room.


End file.
